


Words, Eyes, Hands (Don't Hold Me Down)

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Series: Holly's Round Eight H/C Bingo Card [31]
Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: It's different. Elphaba just can't tell yet if it's better or worse.When she gets to Shiz, Elphaba had been expecting things to change. She wasn't sure how, but she had. And yet, the more things change, the more they stay the same.





	Words, Eyes, Hands (Don't Hold Me Down)

**Author's Note:**

> Playing fast and loose with the prompt for this fill but, eh, what can you do. Enjoy!

It's. It's not _quite_ a prison, for all that it feels like one. It's not like being at home, which is its own kind of imprisonment (Father's words always a touch to firm Mother's eyes always a moment too quick to turn away Nessa's hands always prim and proper in her lap atop legs that won't move and it's her fault it's all her fault) but this isn't the freedom she'd thought, for the space of a breath, might be hers at Shiz.

Because some of that ache has followed her here to Shiz. Galinda's words may not be firm, but they're always a touch too sweet, like they'll dispel the discomfort between them. Galinda's eyes may not be quick, but instead they linger a moment too long, like she might understand something by keeping her eyes on her a little longer. Galinda's hands always aflutter, moving when she talks and when she moves and when she _breathes_ and it's such a change that it makes it hard for her to breathe.

It's different. Elphaba just can't tell yet if it's better or worse.

So she moves through the days and weeks, conscious of every small step and movement the same way she always has been. She watches as Galinda moves with an ease and grace she's never had, as Galinda speaks with authority and poise in a way she's always wished she could, as Galinda insinuates herself with Nessa.

That isn't quite the last straw, but it's damn close, and it's what finally drives her to turn to Galinda with sharp eyes and sharper words behind her teeth, marching up to Galinda only to be gentled and eased with Galinda's words in a way she'd never thought she would be. And, for the first time, she lets herself believe.

It doesn't last.

The second she walks onto the dance floor she can feel the eyes on her back, feels the way her skin colors unflatteringly with a blush. It aches and aches and aches and she can barely breathe through the ache because this is the prison she never let herself fall into—the prison of her shame at who she is.

No, she reminds herself. Not who she is. How she looks. That's different.

It's _different_.

She can be ashamed of how she looks, be ashamed of the way people make her _feel_ , but that's different than being ashamed of who she is. Because that's something they can't take from her, can't change about her, can't twist and warp and take and _change_ unless she lets them. This is who she is, this is _her_ and that's what she has in her power. She won't let them take that from her. She'll stand strong and tall behind the bars of their judging eyes and she'll be who she is, unrepentant and unchanged. Unashamed.

She lifts her arms and dances.

They can trap her body, trap her with their words and their eyes and their hands, but they can't trap her soul. That is hers and hers alone and she will not let them stamp it out.

She dances.

When someone comes to stand at her side, it doesn't quite feel like freedom, but it does feel like safety, and that, for now, is more than she'd expected. So she turns and takes in who it is, and when Galinda's hands lift, moving in time with hers; when Galinda's eyes alight on her, bright and strong; when Galinda's words come whisper-soft in the space between them, she knows there's something here.

It doesn't quite feel like freedom. But it doesn't have to be. It's space to breathe, and, for now, it's enough.

It's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed. Part of my Round Eight H/C Bingo Card. [Come hang with me on tumblr!](http://hollyandvice.tumblr.com/)


End file.
